


To Die a Hero

by lynnthere_donethat



Series: The Tales of Three Brothers [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: (when a father kills a son), Assisted Suicide, Blood and Injury, Dadza, Filicide, Insane Wilbur Soot, Murder-Suicide, Sleepy Bois Inc + Tubbo - Freeform, Villain Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot Needs a Hug, Wilbur and Techno are twins, Wilbur feels overshadowed by techno and strikes out, but he keeps getting shut down by his family, dadza feels after nov 16th, except they're all family, kinda like saving private ryan but make it minecraft youtubers, mans just wants his dad to be proud of him :(, now actual tags-, they argue over who's older, violent descriptions of violence, war and how it affects a family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:46:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27681670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lynnthere_donethat/pseuds/lynnthere_donethat
Summary: “He had a saying, Phil.” Once more, a pause. His eyes drifted down, to a messy scrawl of the chorus of his song My L’Manburg. He looked back up. Brown met blue. And his mouth opened once more, as a firework exploded in the background, the sound thundering through their small cavern. A death message floated onto the server screens- TommyInnit went out with a bang with a rocket fired by Technoblade from {Rocket Launcher}. With his head held high, confidence oozing from his soul, he met his father’s gaze and said “It was never meant to be!”And he slammed his fist into the button.----My take on the November 16th Battle, with some SBI and Wilbur angst.
Relationships: Dave | Technoblade & Toby Smith | Tubbo & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson
Series: The Tales of Three Brothers [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2043667
Comments: 9
Kudos: 129





	To Die a Hero

**Author's Note:**

> A quick world building note before you get into the fic.. it's not SUPER important, but does kinda clarify a part in the story: Minecraft is like a hub. Kinda like in Wreck It Ralph, where you are in a lobby that leads to the different games, well there's a congretional place where players can get in from world to world, or server to server. Private servers require a code to access. And there is a spawn, where the person logs in at. Yet- like normal minecraft, when you log back in or "jump" in this world, the player appears. Just to clarify cause minecraft mechanics and fics are kinda wishy washy about how it works.

The crowd was cheering, a cacophonous noise of support and happiness, as Tubbo stood on the platform, accepting their Presidency. No suits this time. No bated breaths from dramatized withheld election information. No, this time it was with blood, and sweat running down everyone’s bodies, glowing armour weighing heavily on weary shoulders and weapons idly drawn. No flowery, pre-prepared speeches, no polite well wishes. There was no rehearsal, or preformance to this election. This time, it was raw, unhinged and entirely  _ real.  _

Wilbur watched, pride in his eyes as the brunet teen thanked everyone for their efforts in the reclamation for their country-  _ L’ _ Manburg. Wilbur did notice how his twin (albeit older) brother Technoblade stayed on edge and tense, throwing glances over his shoulder to the entourage behind the L’Manburg citizenry. 

Dream and his legion of overpowered goons. Menacingly standing behind the citizens, silent and stony faced. The masked blond stood impassive as ever, his unnerving smile mask drilling holes as the blond met Wilbur’s wandering gaze. His lime green gaiter lay under the mask, stifling any neck or jaw movements from Wilbur’s eye. Wilbur averted his gaze after a couple more moments of looking and refocused on Tubbo. He didn’t miss that Dream was staring at Technoblade before switching his gaze to Wilbur. 

_ Curious. Does he have a similar agreement with old Technoblade? _

As Tubbo stepped down from the podium, with some shakiness to his movements, to tear down the festival decorations- Wilbur quietly excused himself. He could feel Techno’s penetrating stare on his back, but moved forward, already focused on his self-appointed mission. To reclaim what was once his. And if it couldn’t be his then it can’t be anyone else's. Ever. 

Eleven and a half stacks. Over seven hundred and thirty pieces of TNT laid under the city, with a tiny trail of redstone powder, connecting it all to a simple wooden button. The stone chamber was cold. Not like an old lover done wrong, or even a frozen lake. Cold, and calculating- with an air of importance. Not dissimilar to someone else he knew. His scribbles still decorated the wall, the sword used to carve the words still laid broken in the corner. The words haunted his dreams, and blessed his nightmares- the song he wrote. 

The lyrics scribed in the dead of night, presented after the war. Tubbo and Tommy, his younger brothers had sung it with him after it had been written, the boys overjoyed at Wilbur’s creativity. Laughing joyously at the lines, as silly as some of them were. Especially the “Fuck Eret” which was pettily scribbled down after the betrayal. Once they had recovered their injuries and the shock had worn off, that is. 

How times have changed. Wilbur blocked the entrance behind him, and stepped towards the button. He had to make it right, stop history from repeating. He had to! To save Tubbo the heartache, and allow Tommy to rest. His poor brothers, lined with scars and coated in trauma. He had to make it right, for them. He began to sing. 

_ I heard there was a special place _ .

**Emphasis on was. It no longer is special, tainted and marred by tyranny.**

_ Where man could go an emancipate _

**Or woman.**

_ From the brutality and the tyranny of their rulers _

**Ironic, wasn’t it. This little plot was supposed to be a safe haven for him and his two younger brothers, to live freely and virtually lawless. Yet here they were.**

_ With Wilbur, Tommy, Tubbo, Fuck Eret! _

**The boys really liked this line.**

_ It’s a very big and Not blown up L’Manburg. _

**Well not yet. Just one push and it-**

“What are you doing.”

**_What?_ **

“Phil?”  _ ‘Surely it was just a trick of the mind, forcing him to hear what his father would once say to him, but Phil wasn’t here. Surely not!’ _ Wilbur’s mind raced, as he surveyed the cave. He couldn’t hear any mining, which meant his father surely wasn’t in the hillside.

“What are you doing?” Came the repeated question. Looking down, he saw his father had called him through the server communications line- which meant his father had access to the server. They were talking, not sending letters or messing around in the other hub servers or private servers. 

“Phil where are you?” He asked, confused. 

“I’m coming to the server right now.” Came the brusque response. As if he was annoyed at having to dig Wilbur out of another scrape. Like he was cleaning up after Wilbur again, and something positively  _ burned _ in his core, a flash of hatred and malice before Wilbur stamped that out. This was his  _ father _ . He couldn’t destroy his own father.

“I-what? How? What? Do I need to get you from spawn?” Wilbur asked, already moving to leave the cave, all ambitions pushed to the side in order to give his father priority. 

“I’m in a queue to jump in apparently. It’s taking a while” Phil said.

**He’s avoiding your question.** Came that same burning malice, curling in his stomach. The insanity that had begun to coalesce into his own mental thoughts, but not fully integrated, considering Wilbur was aware of what it was. 

“I wasn’t doing anything! We just made Tubbo president, and we won! We won the war! Schlatt’s gone! He’s gone, Phil so it’s um-” Wilbur rambled, stuttering over his words in the rush to get them out, partially nerves and partially to get those thoughts to shut up again. Phil cut him off mid-sentence. 

“Uh huh. So, you are where exactly now?” Pointed, brusque. Phil was not playing games anymore, and he sounded mad. 

“In L’manburg. It’s this- sorta the area whe- you wouldn’t know. I don’t think you’ve been here. But it’s the area around L’Manburg. It’s complicated.” he sputtered, head spinning as he tried to comprehend what was happening. 

**_Philza Joined The Game_ **

“-oh…”

Silence

“Phil.” Wilbur gulped, unable to really say anything. Blond hair pulled back, coal and dust littered his father’s clothes, meaning he was doing some mining before joining. A no nonsense expression, and pursed lips. Arms crossed as he gazed at his son.

“Mmhmm… yeah. In L’Manburg, you said.” Phil said, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. His blue eyes narrowed in obvious displeasure at being lied to.

“The- this is L’Manburg.” A pause, as he faced his father, the disappointment on his face cast spears of joy and yet- sadness in his gut. Torn on how he should feel, finally gaining his father’s attention. “Do you know what this button is?” He said gesturing to the simple, and unimposing button on the wall. The oak wood stood out against the sheer stone face. 

“Uh huh, I do.” He said, pursed lips.Phil shifted so he was standing now, and dropped his hands to his hips, and a face impassive, though Wilbur could see the disappointment in those azure eyes. Eyes that Tommy and Tubbo had inherited. They had also looked like Phil, whereas Wilbur and his twin looked more like their mother- or so Phil had said. They never met their mother.

“Have you heard the song~ on the walls before?” Wilbur said, flourishing a hand through the air, waving across the various scribbles and scratches on the stone face. “Have you heard the song? I was just saying, I just made this big point, and it was that there  _ was _ a special place where men could go an em-, but it’s not there anymore. Y’know, it’s not.” He rambled, attempting to get  _ something _ out of the blond. Anything, other than that damned disappointed look. That exhaustive look that had plagued Wilbur’s life. Always disappointed, never pleased. Never happy. Just- disappointed. Like nothing he did ever stacked up, to meet Phil’s expectations.  **Unlike Techno.**

“It  _ is _ there. You just, you’ve just won it back Wil.” Phil said, plowing over Wilbur’s feeble attempts to counteract his statements. Of course L’Manburg was there. Physically, the city still existed and the land was there. But it’s not the same! There are no walls, there is no camarvan! There is no safety and security tied to the scrap of land that was L’Maburg prior to Schlatt. None of it existed. The camarvan was decimated in the war, only to be shoddily repaired as a tribute, but it wasn’t the same. 

“Phil I am  **_SO_ ** close to pressing this button Phil! I’ve been here, like seven or eight times, I have been here seven or eight times.” Wilbur shouted, smacking a hand on the scarred stone.  _ It’s not the only thing scarred around here _ . He could hear the fireworks being launched, though what was happening- he didn’t know. The sound of footsteps nearing caused him to snarl, before collapsing the stunnel behind his father, if he could even be considered  _ that _ anymore. 

“Ugh, they’re gonna come and oh, I need to block this off in here. Ughhh.” He said, as the dust settled and he paced back towards the button. The firework explosions continued to echo around the cave, barefly muffled by the blocked passageway. “Phil, I’ve been here so many times.” He sighed, running a hand through unruly curls. Fingers snagging, and he ripped his hand away before turning to the sound. 

“They’re fighting! They’re fighting.” He said, waving a hand out to the wall, where on the other side were his brothers, and former allies. Surely he wasn’t an ally anymore. Not after he did this. 

“And you want to blow it all up.” Phil said, in that same tone of voice. Attempting to console, and reason yet failing miserably. After  _ years _ of never acknowledging Wilbur and his achievements-  **_NOW_ ** Phil wanted to be in his son’s life, and help him through a crisis. Well that ship has sailed. A long time ago. But he played along still. Nodding, 

“I do, I think so.” Tangling his fingers in his hair once more, Wilbur slumped down the wall, a tiny sliver of doubt crept in. That little kid who just wanted his father’s love and attention, only to be overshadowed by his twin brother. 

“You fought so hard, to get this land back. So hard.”  
“I don’t even know if it works anymore, Phil. I don’t even know if the button works. I could- I..could press it and it might.”

“Do you really want to take that risk?” Phil laughed, worried laughter bubbling out. “There is a lot of TNT potentially connected to that button.” 

An idea. A hope. A promise.

“Phil, there was a saying by a traitor, once part of L’Manburg. A traitor, I don’t know if you’ve heard of- Eret?” He paused, inching closer to the button, eyes dead locked onto his once-father. Someone he had once relished in calling “Dad”. Wariness floated into ever-expressive blue eyes, giving Wilbur a thrill at catching his father off guard. 

“Yeah.” Phil acknowledged. Tommy had written and kept in touch with their father through the war, so it was entirely possible that Phil knew exactly who Eret, the traitorous bastard, was. 

“He had a saying, Phil.” Once more, a pause. His eyes drifted down, to a messy scrawl of the chorus of his song  _ My L’Manburg _ . He looked back up. Brown met blue. And his mouth opened once more, as a firework exploded in the background, the sound thundering through their small cavern. A death message floated onto the server screens-  **_TommyInnit went out with a bang with a rocket fired by Technoblade from_ ** **{Rocket Launcher}** . With his head held high, confidence oozing from his soul, he met his father’s gaze and said “It was never meant to be!” 

And he slammed his fist into the button.

Immediately, a hiss sounded, and the smallest and faintest sizzle sounded before a ticking sounded and then- the explosions happened. Wilbur raised his arm into a salute- the biggest and proudest smile on his face as his father realized what was happening. In less than a minute, the stone wall had exploded, throwing the two of them towards the collapsed tunnel, as the battlefield was exposed to them. WIlbur closed his eyes, hearing the deliciously loud sounds of the TNT exploding into the distance. Weeks of preparing, and negotiating, tunneling and planning this was finally paying off. Chekov’s gun had finally shot, and in the distance he could hear the crazed shouts and laughter of Dream. The cheers of madness, and destruction the masked man craved. The shouts of horror and shock. 

As the explosions tunneled further down, Wilbur sunk down the cavern wall, hand still raised as tension flooded out of his body. A peace he hadn’t known in ages settled into his core, while tears stung his eyes. It was done, the deed was done. Phil had raced back, watching as the citizens fled from the crater, the previous fighting on pause. An anguished “Wil!” escaped Phil’s mouth, as he surveyed the damage. Wilbur panted as he stood back up, feeling the blowback of the explosion as debris dug itself into his soft flesh. His cheek was bleeding slowly, and when he rubbed his face, red came away on his hands and minor cuts burned with the rough treatment they received. 

“Wil!! It’s all gone!!” Phil shouted, eyes wide in disbelief. Wilbur stood upright once more, and he raced to the edge, throwing his arms out and shouted across the crater left behind “MY L’MANBURG PHIL!  _ MY UNFINISHED SYMPHONY _ , FOREVER UNFINISHED.  _ IF I CAN’T HAVE THIS,  _ **_NO ONE CAN PHIL!_ ** **”** He screamed, feeling the wind whip into the cave, blowing his wild curls out of his face, and he looked over his shoulder to his horrified father. 

“Oh my god…” Phil muttered, still surveying the destruction. Wilbur’s loud shouts began to draw the crowd’s attention. Technoblade, Tommy and Tubbo shooting confused stares their way, while the others shifted, confused. 

Nobody knew what happened. They didn’t know the conversation, the bargaining that had occurred. All they saw was the explosion, the blast sight and saw Phil and Wilbur standing at the precipice. They had seen that Phil had arrived from the chat messages, watched as Wilbur handed the Presidency to Tommy, and then Tubbo. Witnessed Technoblade go off on a rampage- enraged at the war’s easy win and dead set on destroying any trace of government. Now Wilbur had blown up L’Manburg. They had just gotten it back! And now, it is gone. 

“Phil kill me. Phil, kill me. Kill me. It’s the only way to break the cycle. Kill me. Kill-za, kill-za.  **Do it** !” He ranted, thrusting a diamond sword into his fathers hands, eyes widening with madness, glittering with the adrenaline of completing his goal. Phil stuttered, taken aback by Wilbur’s pleas. 

“Stab me with a sword. Murder me now. Kill me.” His voice cracked, from the shouting earlier. Brown eyes wide with his pleas. It’d be for mercy, at this rate, with a sick twist of poetic justice. He needed Phil to kill him, so he couldn’t hurt anyone else. No more people hurt. “Look, they all want you to! Kill me!” As the crowd gathered hundred feet away, unable to hear the conversation they had, 

“You’re my  _ SON! _ ” His father cried out.

“Phil! Kill me!” He pleaded. He didn’t understand, he just didn’t know what had happened!

“”No matter what you’ve done, I can’t.” His father pleaded, trying to shake Wilbur’s hands off, the brunet clamping Phil’s hands to the hilt of the blade. The brunet was so close to his face, as he repeated “Kill me” over and over.

“Phil, this is- LOOK! How much work went into this and it’s gone! Do it.” Wilbur pleaded. Phil looked out over the crowd, and saw Tommy up front, battered and bruised. Tubbo right beside them- their wide blue eyes staring at their brother and father where the explosion originated. Phil looked back, as Wilbur stepped away. His hands tightened on the hilt, and he lifted it. 

Phil struck twice, blood blossoming from the cuts as he dropped the blade. Wilbur’s body arched back, before slumping down, and sliding down the remnant of the cave walls. Phil’s face twisted into a pained look and he surged forward and held Wilbur close, tears falling freely. Wilbur was already unconscious by the time Phil had dropped the sword. His head resting on something warm, he took a moment to reflect on life as he slipped away. As Tommy’s screams of agony at his brother’s death, and as his citizens mourned his passing- he reflected. On life. On family, and friends. What truly mattered, as his body respawned in the forest. 

**_WilburSoot was Slain by Philza_ **

Lightly tanned skin faded to an ashy gray, and a bright yellow, woolen sweater replaced the drab cardigan and cargo pants he’d worn before. Curly hair went from rich, chocolate brown to an ashy grayscale mixture. As if he had lost all saturation and color. Aside from his signature sweater, the thick cable knit pattern is reminiscent of better times. Before it all went downhill. His chest ached with twin lacerations from the blade his father had used upon him. His voice was no longer eloquent and flowing like caramel over chocolate. Now raspy, as if the sword had destroyed his airways or damaged his lungs. Perhaps. Phil was known for his survival skills, and he knew how to kill quickly and effectively. Two was a shock- considering the damage that Wilbur took in the blowback of the explosion. Perhaps Phil actually did love him.

(._.)(._.)(._.)(._.)(._.)(._.)(._.)(._.)(._.)(._.)

Phil watched from a distance as Wilbur floated to a spot in the woods, far away from the war raging onward. Neither of the men would see the messages fly by as people died and respawned. Phil sighed at the flightless path his second eldest son took. He wondered where he had gone wrong, and how he could make it up to the brunet. There was something that Wilbur had said, that had clued him in. He called Phil by his name, instead of Dad. Something Wilbur only did when he was mad at and Wilbur’s twin, Technoblade. 

His  family was torn to shreds through war. Four brothers who once were thick as thieves becoming distant and cold. A set of twins born seconds apart, and two younger brothers a year difference in age. Technoblade, Wilbur, Tommy and Tubbo. They had gone off, when they had wanted, but he didn’t recognize his boys when they had returned. 

War wasn’t easy, and they would see to that. Days they had spent in fields, playing with foam swords turned into fighting for their lives, armed with diamond and iron swords. T-shirts replaced with heavy chest plates. Scars blossoming against their skins like freckles in the sun. 

He would visit and check in, only to stop short. These are not the same boys who had left. Bright smiles and eyes now turned dead and impassive. Grimaces etched into their faces, instead of smile lines. The boys who returned from war, they were merely shells of their past selves. 

Peaceful nights full of cricket chirps turn to long and dark- the echoes of nightmares remaining in bags under their eyes, throats shredded from screams and cries. Bags heavy under their eyes, and flinches to sounds. It was as if their sensitivities had been reversed. The quiet was peaceful, and the noise was too much to bear. 

Technoblade would hide away, ears jammed with headphones playing music on repeat, and fidget toys or soft materials clenched tightly in his grasp, as if letting go would mean his death. 

Wilbur didn’t touch an instrument for months after his return from a war, face set to a blank look, notebooks and pens abandoned in favor of sitting in silence, flinching at the loud bangs of Phil cooking for them. 

Tommy and Tubbo had gotten louder, but they lost the excitement. Blue eyes that had lost their spark of youthful vitality. Gone were mischievous grins, full of trickery and jokes, replaced with serious looks and soldier like responses. 

His family had gone to war, only to return as soldiers abused by their operatives. Haunted by their actions and plagued with nightmares and sleepless nights. 

Three had returned, and one to die a hero.

**Author's Note:**

> THIS FIC we coded it, so that war movie Saving Private Ryan was revamped to be reminiscent of the Sleepy Bois Inc found family dynamic. Also- according to AO3 statistics, none of you edgy bastards are sad enough to torture yourselves with angst, which is a crime. If you do read it, please consider leaving a kudos and maybe a comment. It’s completely free and you can never take it back. Enjoy the angst.
> 
> But seriously- i do read all your comments and do my best to reply to them in a timely manner! They help motivate me to continue posting these stories! I hope you all liked the story!  
> Feel free to yell at me on Tumblr at my-lamanburg-my-lmanburg.tumblr.com


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